


heaven help the ones who have to stay and place the blame

by biochemprincess



Category: Charmed (TV 1998)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 06, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chris-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 18:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20934752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biochemprincess/pseuds/biochemprincess
Summary: "So you guys still alright with me hanging around here?"Silence could be awfully loud if you just let it fester long enough. It screamed in your ears and it spoke of your sins. The Halliwells had always been fascinatingly good at passing judgement in the space between words."Trust works both ways. The next time you're in trouble you gotta tell us. Until then it might be best for all of us, if you take a little break," Leo said.





	heaven help the ones who have to stay and place the blame

**Author's Note:**

> title: ingrid michaelson - old days
> 
> story starts at chris-crossed. it diverges from canon, but the episodes of s6 are still a red thread through the story (including some dialogue i've incorporated).

Consider this: The boy is just a boy.

(Not the silver son, not a Charmed one, not blessed at all.)

  
-

  
Bianca took him back home, the home he had escaped in order save it. Home - his present - the one he wanted to change so badly.

But what he saw was the stuff of his nightmares, a future just as bleak and worthless as the one he'd started his journey from. In the time it took Wyatt to almost murder him, he'd pondered if it would be less painful to just let it happen than continuing to keep making changes to a future that was quite possibly past being salvageable.

He returned to the Sisters though; he wasn't done yet.

It had way less to do with a healthy sense of self-preservation than his inherent need to come out on top of this fucking situation.

"So you guys still alright with me hanging around here?"

Silence could be awfully loud if you just let it fester long enough. It screamed in your ears and it spoke of your sins. The Halliwells had always been fascinatingly good at passing judgement in the space between words.

"Trust works both ways. The next time you're in trouble you gotta tell us. Until then it might be best for all of us, if you take a little break," Leo said.

Chris nodded, because it is what he was supposed to do. He could fight them on it - and he should - but he was so tired. Leo had always mastered the art of shoving you into the direction he considered beneficial.

And maybe it was for the better.

Leo would step in and do whatever he thought was best. Chris could kill demons on his own, maybe finally find a promising lead in his quest to save the future. He knew in painful detail now that absolutely nothing had changed yet - Wyatt would still become this kind of tyrant and Chris wasn't about to give up hope just yet.

"Maybe you can stop obsessing about demons for a bit," Paige suggested helpfully.

"I don't obsess about anything. I just..." he started, but didn't end the sentence. They wouldn't understand, not without knowing the full story. He was in no mood for a souls striptease. It was too late anyway; it wouldn't change anything.

Piper's face turned funny for a split second, but he didn't think much about it. Instead he left, just like they wanted him to.

(He didn't think they'd be reckless enough to break up in a time as sensitive as this and move out, but then they've always done what nobody expected them to.)

  
-

  
Dawn was barely breaking over the horizon as he orbed into the Attic, straight in front of the Book.

It smelled strongly of algae and smoke, a combination not suited to go with each other very well without causing a bout of nausea. The door frame was broken, possibly splintered by Piper from what it looked like. Chris tried not to dwell on what it meant for the sisters. But they weren't dead, he knew as much, it had to do for now.

The Underworld was whispering, seething like a cauldron of over-boiling potion, and he had to lead them onto the right track. He wouldn't let them kill themselves before he had a chance to take back the future as he saw fit to.

He wouldn't let them kill themselves. Period.

"What do you think you're doing here, young man?"

Chris almost jumped three feet back from the Book of Shadows at the sudden appearance of Grams. She had her arms crossed in front of her body and looked generally - well as she always did - pissed.

"Are the sisters alright?"

"Shouldn't you know? You are their Whitelighter," Penny replied coolly. "Or were, as I've heard from Leo."

Chris was perpetually impressed by her arrogance. He never managed to convey it quite as well. Prue hated to be compared to her, but they both had the same way of showing their prejudices.

He did too, but it was another point he didn't like to think about.

Chris shrugged. "We're taking a break."

She squinted her eyes, but she took pity on him. Chris knew he didn't look presentable. The Underworld took its toll on him. “They are alright. Not thanks to you, I might add.”

“Yeah, whatever. They summoned you?”

“Of course. They needed my help and I came to assist them. I’m their grandmother.” Penny almost sounded offended. The love for her family was unquestionable. So was his, but it was purposely clouded by his lies.

Chris had no idea what was currently going on, but given the state of the Attic it was not going well.

"Why are you still here then?"

"You need to work on your manners," she answered now. "It arose from the situation. I couldn't leave them behind just yet. I'll be gone soon enough. As should you be."

“Well then, au revoir. Tell your granddaughter to answer my calls,” he said absently, already looking for another page in the book. Maybe the sisters would take the hint, if he made it as obvious as possible, leaving the book to speak in his stead.

“Tell them yourself.”

He sighed in resignation. Opening himself to Grams was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

They both were too similar, in powers and in personality, and he knew it. He’d do anything to protect his family, just like Penny did all her life as she raised her granddaughters all on her own. But they had never gotten along all that well on the few occasions his mother or aunts had summoned her in his original timeline.

Grams had never really gotten over them being boys, despite her firm assurances of the opposite. And between the two of them she'd favoured Wyatt, who was the shining example of a new generation of witches.

Chris didn't blame her so there wasn't anything for him to forgive, but he didn't forget.

Stubbornness seemed to be a dominant trait in the Halliwell lineage.

“I meant Prue”, Chris clarified for her. The look Penny gave him was almost worth the uncomfortable conversation he had found himself in.

“Prue cannot be summoned yet,” Grams said. “It takes time and patience to achieve the state between here and there.”

He waved her off. “Sure, that was true around the time of her death. It’s been years. Prue can do it just fine, but she won’t, because she thinks Piper and Phoebe have to learn how to live without her. So there’s no reason for her to not appear when I summon her.”

Maybe he sounded like a petulant teenager defying his elders, but he needed to pick a fight right now or he’d go insane.

Chris wanted to go toe to toe with somebody, wanted to yell and break and destroy. He wanted somebody to look at him and see just how broken he was, how all the pieces were falling apart one by one.

Prue had never taken it personally when he’d lashed out at her. She'd always given as good as she'd gotten and he'd never been kind to her to start with. He hadn't been to anyone back then.

He still remembered clearly how she turned up a few weeks after his mother’s death as he'd tried to summon Piper and failed spectacularly, how she'd guided him away from his grief and taught him to get a better grip on his powers.

She had been there when Wyatt had started to display worrying traits of selfishness, as his brother had descended deeper and deeper into the darkness.

Wyatt's grief had led him to destruction, while his own had led him to solitary and defiance. His life had been filled with ghosts and Bianca. Prue had never let him summon Piper again and he understood why - now, at least - but it hadn't made him feel it any better smack in the middle of his hurt.

Right now he could use some good advice. Or simply her company. Because the sisters were out of reach, due to his own doings and he was grateful and miserable all at once.  
  
“I don’t see why she would want to talk to you, Whitelighter,” Grams said. Her voice was rising. The woman could spit venom if she wanted to. “From what Leo has told me you are not exactly trustworthy.”

“Because Leo is such a good judge of character,” Chris mumbled under his breath.

He was so done with this, with all of them, his entire family and himself. If he didn’t actually care about the fate of the world, he’d just say “Fuck it” and go on a vacation. He'd take some magic books and spend the rest of his life on the beach of a remote Caribbean Island.

“He is a good man,” she said. Unlike you, went unsaid. Chris had always been excellent at filling the empty spaces. He knew how to pick his battles. Usually.

He found the demons he was looking for and left the book open for them to find later. Maybe they'd take the hint.

“What exactly do you think to gain from a conversation with my deceased granddaughter?” Penny asked. She started to wander the space of the Attic, coming closer to him now. “I am more than sure the girls will help you, if you apologize to them.”

“An apology isn't going to change anything,” he retorted. He didn't slam the book shut, even though the urge to do so was overwhelming. His flair for the dramatic was unnecessary, sometimes.

“You abused their trust.”

“Come on, I cannot tell them about the future. You and I agree on this, don’t we?”

“There is a difference between omitting the truth and outright lying to further your own goals,” Penny said.

“As if you’d know anything about my goals, Penelope,” Chris huffed. Grams’ mouth opened and close, but for just a moment she remained speechless. He felt a certain brand of petty pride.

“Who do you think you are?”

He shook his head. There was nothing he could tell her - or should tell her for that matter - that would satisfy her.

"Tell Prue-"

"No."

A headache behind his temples grew more painful by the second. Early sunlight filtering through the windows hurt in his eyes. Chris hadn't slept in a few days and it was showing. The way Grams' wrinkled her nose told him he was in need of a shower, though it was more of a general attitude towards him than a response to his smell.  
  
Noises were filtering upstairs; Wyatt's intelligible babbling and the shuffling of feet on the hardwood floors. Piper wouldn't check the Attic this early in the morning, but he still couldn't stay for much longer.

Not welcome in his own home; again.

Chris pondered to push once more, because what was there to lose for him? But he decided against it. Picking his battles, yada yada yada.

"No more objections?" Grams asked.

"I think I've had enough," he conceded. He had to conserve his energy, the war wouldn't be over anytime soon.

"How exactly do you know Prue?"

Chris thought about it for a minute. Lately he'd been less and less careful on what he said around the sisters. The right word choice was crucial. He wasn't entirely sure if he wanted Grams to know who he was or not.

Would the consequences of its impact on the future outweigh the benefit of a confession?

"Someday she'll save my life," he answered ambiguously, before he could dig himself a bigger hole.

Her stiff demeanour relaxed just a fraction, but there was some residue doubt left. He could read it on her face. Penny Halliwell didn't trust easily, especially not men and particularly not him.

"Whatever happens to you and your world, I hope you can change it, Christopher."

"So do I."

Grams smiled at him, genuinely this time if only briefly, then she started to fade in a flurry of bright light. Magic filled the room, powerful and ancient. "Get help, boy." Her parting words echoed in the air before silence filled the room once more.

Chris was alone again, in the vast space of the attic. He didn't dwell too closely on his surroundings. In the dark corners he could imagine Wyatt lingering in the shadows, waiting for his chance to strike.

He shoved a hand into the left pocket of his pants and wrapped a fist around the engagement ring he carried with him. Again, still, forever or never.

It was time for him to leave.

  
-

  
Vanquish a demon here, vanquish a demon there.

Not posing as the sister’s Whitelighter anymore had given him so much free time, he didn't know where to start hunting. It had been inevitable, because he needed the access to them and Wyatt and the Book, but in terms of output he was more successful working on his own.

(Bianca had been the brain behind their original suicide plan.

He'd said 'What if we could turn back time to stop it?' and she'd run with the idea. He'd just been kinda sentimental after they'd spent the night together in some shitty hide-out, but Bianca...

She was always five steps ahead of him.)

It was freeing now, weaving through the Underworld and making a name for himself without actually revealing his identity. Chris found demon after demon and took care of them.

Many of them were of low status, scum under the boots of the big leaders. He kept his guilt in check with the promise of a better future, of an intact family.

(He knew there wouldn't be an afterlife for him, not like the one his great-grandmother was enjoying. His hands were drenched in blood, and it was mostly for his personal gain. He'd rot in hell and he'd be fine with it. He'd just succeed here first, so it wouldn't be for naught.)

A run in with an astonishingly resourceful warlock almost took him out of his slightly blood-thirsty intelligence gathering for good. Luckily he was in possession of an active power in addition to his powers as a half-whitelighter.

Chris was a talented potion maker as well - thank you very much - but he couldn't compete with the Power of Three. No matter how many books he read, he was lacking the inherent magic to perform certain powerful spells.

It certainly wasn't for a lack of trying, for sure.

He immersed himself even deeper into the art of cooking the perfect potions, on how to get the right ingredients, the little tricks to make them stronger and better. He wrote spell after spell, switching phrases and words like tiles on a Scrabble board.

Between him and Wyatt, Chris had always been the better student. He had worked his ass off to keep up with his brother, while Wyatt had often relaxed on his advanced laurels.

(In the end it all hadn’t been enough.)

Time passed differently down in the labyrinth of caves, so much he forgot to eat and sleep many days. Chris even smashed his own record of “Most Demons Killed in One Day”. The previous record holder had been the day he'd heard about Excalibur returning and choosing Wyatt as its king.

(He could admit he had his issues with his own self-worth and he was not above blaming them on his brother.)

And it’s not like he didn’t know Wyatt would wield Excalibur one day, because he had known. The sword had been in the manor for all his life, always hanging centimetres above his neck. Metaphorically for most of it, literally later on.

Chris hated how much he had to fight for his magic, how he had to mould it like clay for it to be of any use. Wyatt’s was a constant stream, water in a river turning into a vast sea. It knew no beginning and no end, a bottomless pit only he had access to.

His own power was hard-earned in comparison. It had boundaries and constraints, limits he'd had to test and bend and stretch.

Sometimes Wyatt appeared to be larger than life.

It wasn’t all Wyatt's fault alone. The magical community had thrust a prophecy upon him when he’d been nothing but an innocent infant. They had shaped him too. Not that it was an excuse, but it was certainly part of the problem.

Wyatt's choices were Wyatt's choices, there was no reason to sugarcoat it. Yet he was at the same time a product of his environment, who had nurtured him to a certain point.

It's where the waters started turning murky. The Resistance had not been happy about any plans involving Wyatt surviving in case of a victory. They wanted him gone, end of story. Chris could sympathise with them, but Wyatt was still his brother and he believed there was still something good inside him.

Someone he could save.

In the end Wyatt bled just like the rest of them, even though Wyatt likely wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it.

But Chris knew better. He knew about the uncontrollable bouts of magic and the nightmares leaving his brother screaming and the demons who were after him time and time again.

Despite all his own shortcomings and his inferiority complex, Chris wouldn’t trade places with his brother for all the money in the world.

Maybe if Chris could keep evil from turning Wyatt and bringing him on their side, he could gift him a kinder life while he was at it.

(He still loved Wyatt beyond anything. They were brothers. And if he couldn't save him, he'd damn well stop him.)

  
-

  
Chris heard rumours about a cult called The Order. That's when he knew things were about to get real ugly real fast.

It had been weeks since he'd last talked to the sisters, any of them. Keeping his physical distance from them had helped him establish an important emotional distance as well. He couldn't continue being close to them when he knew he might lose them again.

(His mother's drying blood was sticking to his hands as he knelt above her lifeless body, begging her to wake up.)

They didn’t call for him, but he found them nonetheless. This was his playground. In a detached sort of way it was entirely fitting that some messed up demonic cult would appoint his big baby brother as their leader. Seemed pretty on the head with the foreshadowing.

"Trust me, Piper," he was pleading with her, in more senses than just one. But she did what he told her to, pointed the scepter at Wyatt and reversed whatever the demons did to him.

Chris considered it a win in his books.

Together they defeated the demons until ashes were the only remnant of their former existence. They orbed back to the Halliwell manor together and given the looks on their faces, they demanded answers.

"The only reason I came here was to keep Wyatt from turning evil," Chris admitted. He pointed at him in Piper's arms. "And as you can see it's justified."

Piper held Wyatt a little closer to her chest, rocking him back and forth. "Impossible. You're lying."

That hurt, but it was only logical. Wyatt was merely a baby and he was her baby. She would never believe him over the only son she knew.

"Believe me, I wish I was. But no, I'm not. He's gonna grow up and terrorise people with his powers, take over over the world."

"Why should we believe you after all the lies?" Leo asked. They were a united front, him and the sisters and Wyatt. Paige unwittingly shook her head at him.

"Because you have to."

"No, Chris, we don't, actually," Piper said.

"Whatever, believe me or don't. I'll continue to try to save him."

Piper glowered at him. "Chris, we don't need your help. And if I am honest, I don't wanna see you anymore."

He didn't flinch, but it cost him all his willpower.

She didn't know him. She wasn't his mother. Maybe she'd never be. He told himself the same mantra over and over again.

If he didn't look at her and saw his mother's face her words couldn't hurt him, she was just another face in the crowd and he could pretend it didn't matter.

(Gotcha there. It didn't fucking work.)

Chris didn't want to fight them anymore. He'd thought being close to them and Wyatt would give him a head-start, but all it had given him were headaches and heartbreak. The lies cost him so much and he was sick of them.

"Why?" Phoebe asked. She was the only one who showed a modicum of compassion. Even though she couldn't read his emotions, she seemed to have a pretty good idea of them.

"Didn't your sisters do everything in their power to save you when you married the Source?" His voice sounded exhausted even to his own ears.

It was out in the open before he could stop himself. His big, fat, stubborn mouth would be the end of him one day. And it was more than just a tad hypocritical, given Bianca's own heritage.

Magic was more than good and evil, black and white. Chris toed the line on a daily basis. But Wyatt's forces of destruction were a whole other thing.

Phoebe's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Of course, they are my sisters."

"Yeah, maybe. But may I remind you that you're also a Charmed One? You on the side of evil would've had terrible consequences. What do you think it's like living in a future where the most powerful witch in existence has seized control, picking on the whole world?"

Chris was met by the scrutiny and doubtful stares. Anger forced a way out, not caring about saving his ass. "I'm not letting him turn evil, if there's even the smallest chance to stop this."

To stop him, save him.

If he spent even another millisecond in their vicinity he'd break down and he... he just couldn't.

Chris didn't let them reply anything. He didn't wait for them to accuse him of more lies. He just orbed back to the Underworld cave he'd set up camp weeks earlier.

Cowardice had always suited him best.

  
-

  
He gave himself a break for one weekend. The demons were regrouping after his attacks, after the Charmed Ones had taken care of the Order.

He raided the bar at P3 and took some stuff back to his cave. It was nothing more than a hole in a rock. There was dust everywhere - between the pages of his many books, in his hair, and in his underwear where he really didn't want to have any of it.

The cave itself was located in a very remote part of the Underworld and he'd concealed the already barely visible entrance as well as hidden his own presence. He couldn't risk them scrying for him.

Leo could possibly find him the easiest as he seemed to always turn up at the most inconvenient times in his life. His powers as an Elder gave him an advantage his own powers couldn't make up with.

"Do you even know how difficult it is to come to the Underworld when you're an incorporeal spirit?"

The voice came from nowhere and everywhere. Chris grabbed for his dagger, ready to defend himself. But there was nobody there, not physically.

Little by little light molecules took shape in the form of a female body. She stood only a few feet away from him. Even though she looked somewhat different from the form he was used to see, she was still the same.

"Prue," he whispered.

Her dark hair was shorter than Chris was used to see on her. She wore a tight sleeveless top and ripped jeans, an outfit that was more familiar. Prue had never subjected herself to the same dress code as other ghosts seemed to do. Thankfully so, Chris didn't want to imagine her in the flower patterns Patty and Penny seemed to favour.

"Grams told me the untrustworthy surrogate Whitelighter wanted to speak with me. Well, here I am."

Maybe he should’ve put more thought into the fact that this Prue was from the present as well and therefore didn’t know him yet.

Perhaps he’d acted prematurely. (Which should be the title of his biography.)

"Are you not gonna ask me who I am?"

Prue did that thing with her mouth and her eyes, where she raised both in a minuscule manner to convey just how disappointed she was in him for underestimating her. "I know exactly who you are, Christopher Halliwell. Give a dead woman some credit."

Well. At least he didn't have to explain that part.

"You didn't tell Penny?" Chris asked.

Prue smiled at him. "No, I didn't. And I won't."

Chris tried to not let it show, but he was immensely grateful for her secrecy. He knew for certain that this little secret would stay between them.

"What now? he asked.

"I have a question to begin with," Prue said. "What happens to you when you succeed and go back home?"

"What do you mean? That's the ideal outcome."

Prue shook her head. "Will you pretend that all of this never happened? Will you be able to? Tell me Chris, how do you plan to forget all that has happened to you and live in a world that is infinitely better than the one you left, with the guilt and pain and trauma you have experienced?"

He turned away from her, kicking rocks against the cave walls. Sand blew up and danced in the air, illuminated by the fiery glow of his makeshift campfire. Denial was more than a river in Egypt, it was the only way for him get through this mess. He'd cross that bridge when he got to it, unless it burned down first anyway.

"You haven't thought about it, have you?" Prue went on, rubbing salt into the wound.

"I have," Chris replied coolly. "I'll lose my memory. The amnesia will wipe everything clean and my family can fill it with the memories they have of me."

Given the shocked look on Prue's face it wasn't what she'd expected him to say. He rarely managed to get this kind of reaction out of her. Prue was unflappable. It wasn't his most favoured plan, but it was the one he would rely on should the situation require it.

He didn't think he'd survive long enough to ever require it, but that was a whole other story.

"What do you need, Chris?"

He sighed, the heaviness of his deeds weighing on his body, his heart. "Nothing. Just stay a little longer."

Prue blinked once, twice. But her spirit seemed to settle bit by bit, her form turning less translucent.

She stayed.

It was more than Chris had dared to expect. It was more than he deserved.

  
-

  
The blinds in Phoebe’s office were closed. Chris wasn’t sure if it was meant to keep his arrival via orbing a secret from her co-workers or if she just wanted to hide the mess that was her desk from them.

Paper clippings and letters were strewn all over any surface. It looked like a demon of disorder had paid her a visit. Phoebe sat behind her desk, her head buried in her hands.

“What do you want?”

Phoebe raised her head to look at him. Her face lit up in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d actually come. I've been calling for you all week. Didn't you hear me?”

“I put you on mute,” he answered, not perfectly honest with her. Chris had checked in on them from afar. Their problems hadn’t been earth-shattering and mostly personal. None of them had anything to do with Wyatt so it didn’t bother him much. He could difference between actual calls concerning their livelihoods and casual accusations.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I had to, I was busy with hunting demons,” he fibbed. Technically it wasn’t even that big of a lie. He had been hunting. And drinking. Having heart-to-hearts with his dead aunt, the usual. “So, what is it? I thought you’ve fired me as your Whitelighter.”

“Chris, honey.”

Memories of his childhood resurfaced in an instant. He'd heard the same phrase so many times from her you'd think it was his full name. That was the problem with Phoebe. She actually cared deeply, even about strangers.

Phoebe wasn’t Prue, who had taken on the burden of being a positive example for her sisters as the oldest sister after Patty had died.

She wasn’t Piper, who only ever wanted a normal life separated from magic, no matter the cost and who would willingly do anything to protect her family. Even die.

And she wasn’t Paige, who grew up as an only child and was still finding her place in the world, the magical world in particular.

Sure Phoebe could just be as judgemental and self-absorbed as the rest of the family – himself included – but if it came down to it, she wouldn’t throw him under a bus. Neither would Paige, he thought, given her recent romance with the Romeo of the magical world.

It wasn’t a coincidence Phoebe had been the one to fall in love with a demon. The demise of their relationship was a whole other story.

(He didn’t want to think about a future in which he had to choose between his family and Bianca. But then if he could save Wyatt, they’d never meet at all so it wasn’t like he should be concerned about it right now.)

The heavy weight around his lungs tightened and he found it more and more difficult to breathe. He ignored it. “Do you need my help? I can help you, if you need me to.”

“No,” Phoebe said. A sad smile appeared on her face. “I just thought I might warn you.”

Ice-cold dread filled his veins. “Warn me about what?”

“Leo is petitioning the other Elders to send you back to your time.”

Chris sat down on the little couch Phoebe kept despite the small, crowded room and stared into the space ahead of him. He shouldn’t be surprised; he wasn’t surprised.

From an outsider’s point of view it even made sense. It was just unfortunate for him personally. He needed more time, more resources, more more more.

“I need…,” but he couldn’t finish the sentence. Not in front of Phoebe, who looked at him as if she wanted to cry for him. She pitied him. It made him want to throw up.

Chris didn’t need anybody’s pity. Especially not hers.

Phoebe stood up and stepped in front of him, crouching down so they were on the same eye-level. Her hand landed on his shoulder and she looked straight into his eyes. She must’ve seen something inside them, because she looked away quickly.

“We can help you save the future or whatever. You just need to give us some starters.”

He wanted to say, “You’ll die a horrible and gruesome death. Just like Paige. And Mum.” Even thinking their names like that caused him physical pain. But it evaporated into smoke as he concentrated on the problems at hand.

“You can’t help me,” he said, but reconsidered, "or you could help me, by finally taking me seriously."

"We are taking the threats on Wyatt's life seriously."

"Not from where I'm standing."

She raised herself back to full height and took a step back from him. “I see. There’s something I’d like to know though. Why do you care so much about us?” Phoebe asked.

At this point he was grasping for straws. The hopelessness made him desperate, made him reckless, made him stupid.

Bianca’s failed attempt at getting him home – her death – it had opened wounds and he didn’t know how to stitch them back together.

Chris had never been good at healing, one way or the other.

“I don't care about you,” he lied. Inducing Phoebe’s inability to read his emotions was still one of the most valuable feats he’d accomplished. He was damn lucky the potion had worked. "I care about your powers. I care about Wyatt staying on the right side of history. That's why I'm here."

“Why do I find it so hard to believe you?”

“Because you don’t trust me? Because you don’t like me? Because my face gives you issues? Pick one.”

Phoebe seemed to consider his words very carefully, before she answered. Her expressions could power entire cities, as open and ever-changing as they were. “Maybe. But you haven’t given us much to work with. We don’t know you. You are the shady guy who broke up my sister and her husband and inserted himself in our lives.”

“What? Do you want a character profile, a CV?” he started yelling. His patience was worn thin, a thread on the verge of snapping. Couldn't they understand how fragile a line he was walking?

“Shh, be quiet. They'll hear you outside.”

Chris got up from his seat. “There’s nothing you need to know about me.”

“You can’t expect to us to trust you when you don’t trust us.”

“You do realize there is a huge difference, right? I’m trying to protect the future here.”

Phoebe opened her mouth in disbelief. “You’re already changing the future, you could give us the benefit of doubt.”

Chris rubbed a hand over his forehead. He could already feel another migraine brewing on the horizon. Nowadays it was a common occurrence for him. If it was a side effect of his lasting stay in the past or a from dealing with this version of his family he couldn't tell.

“Yes, and I have to gauge every single situation on a daily basis. What I share with you and what I need to keep to myself,” he explained, not without adding another dig, “It’s fun, you should try it.”

“Don’t be so high and mighty, Chris. We’ve been to the past as well,” Phoebe said.

Chris figured she wasn’t talking about their most recent trip to the past, the one he'd squeezed out of Prue in his desperate attempt to not entirely loose his connection to the Sisters. But he didn't know exactly what she wanted to tell him about.

“And did it change anything?”

“No,” she answered quietly. Phoebe fumbled with seams of her shirt. Grief was written plainly on her face and it was no accident. She let him see it, Chris was sure. "My mother still died."

Maybe pity was a two-way street. He had lasting memories of his mother at least. He didn’t have to grow up without her, not all the way. Phoebe on the other hand… she basically only knew her mother as a ghost.

"I'm doing this so mine won't," he offered as an olive branch.

Phoebe nodded, but she didn't seem convinced of his odds. Well, that made two of them.

“Thanks for the warning, Phoebe. I appreciate it,” Chris said and meant every word for once. He’d have to be even more careful now. If Leo couldn’t find him he couldn’t send him back.

There was just one more question he needed answered. “Have the Elder assigned you a new Whitelighter yet?”

“Your concern is touching,” Phoebe said. Chris shrugged nonchalantly. “No. But Leo is stepping in. No need to worry about us.”

“Good.”

Good.

Maybe it meant not all hope was lost.

If Leo was around there was a good chance he’d be born after all. Kicking him out of the picture had been one of the more half-baked parts of his plan to get close to the sisters.

“See you around. Unless Leo sends me back to future hell. We’ll see,” he joked, only to watch Phoebe being uncomfortable before he orbed away.

  
-

  
Prue didn't beat around the bush.

"Piper is pregnant."

"Yeah, I know," he said and grimaced immediately. It was too early to deal with the unpretty effects of time travel on his psychic hygiene. Or too late. He'd stopped giving a fuck about his sleep schedule. Time passed differently in the Underworld anyway.

Chris could do the math.

He'd started to feel like he'd vanish into thin air any moment and then suddenly it had stopped somehow. So, he knew what it meant, even though the small part of him that considered this Leo and Piper his parents was kinda grossed out. Some instincts were difficult to stifle.

"Maybe you should tell them now," Prue proposed briskly.

Chris was eternally grateful Prue stuck around with him in Underworld, even though it was mostly so she could lecture him about his terrible life choices.

Even dead people needed a hobby.

"No."

"Why not?"

Chris visibly counted down the reasons on his fingers. "Well, let's see. It's a bad idea. They won't believe me. It's a really fucking bad idea. That enough for you?"

"You haven't given them any reason to believe you. Keeping them in the dark for much longer will have the worse outcome," Prue reasoned with him.

He ran a hand through his hair. If he continued this bad habit he'd go bald by the age of 32. "It's too late now. Leo's trying to send me back any day."

"We all have problems with our fathers. Leo is..."

Chris stopped her right there. "Don't say he's a good man. I can't hear it anymore."

"It's the truth," she argued.

"For you, yeah. Not me. Because I consider Victor to be a good man, while your relationship with him was, how should we phrase it, icy? Would you call it that?"

"He abandoned us," Prue said surly. Even as a ghost her expression spoke volumes.

Chris threw up his hands in defeat. "Guess what? Leo abandoned me too. And you can't chalk it down to the evil future I'm from. Because it happened way before Mum died and Wyatt started murdering. It was his choice, not a consequence of the circumstances."

Prue just looked at him. "It took me many years and by the end it was too late maybe, but Victor and I managed to make our peace with each other. Maybe in saving the future you and Leo can too."

In all honesty, Leo and their wrecked relationship had been the least of his worries. Chris wasn't sure what kind of person it made him, but he had no feelings one way or the other. He didn't care if Leo turned out to be a good father to him or not and it didn't matter.

He wanted his mother and his brother and his aunts. He wanted his home and Bianca and a fighting chance to turn out as normal as the son of a Charmed and an Elder could be. (Not much of a chance, but still.)

Leo played a guest role on his life, Tree #4 in a Elementary School rehearsal.

"Yeah, maybe. Or maybe everybody has a different persona around various persons and terms like good or bad are not universal?"

"Did you take Psychology 101 in college trying to follow Phoebe's footsteps?"

"Never went to college."

"So you're a natural talent then. Freud is shaking in the afterlife."

Chris grimaced. "Could you maybe not compare me to that guy?"

His aunt smiled then, with mirth in her eyes. It was so scarce to see this Prue smile, given that the fury about her untimely death still lingered so close to the surface. The anger would fade with the years, Chris knew. The version of Prue he'd come to know had had a better grip on it.

Prue took a step towards him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, let's try again with the Astral Projection. I'll be damned if I can't teach you. Might save your life one day."

  
-

  
“Chris.”

He turned his head away from never ending conversation with the vendor in the Underworld, and the bustling of other demons around him, and listened closely to the tingling in the back of skull.

Chris had lied when he’d told Phoebe he’d muted her calls. He hadn’t. He’d ignored them, true, but he was far too scared they’d need his help and he wouldn’t be with them fast enough.

He didn’t want to rely solely on Leo. The Elders had a screwed sense of morality and who knew if he’d have the time or the permission to interfere.

They had called less and less for him as the weeks passed by. But now he could hear Piper’s voice loud and clear in his head. His name, only once.

It didn’t sound desperately urgent. But then he couldn’t risk missing a demon attack when nobody else was around to help her. The Resistance had taught him well, about exit strategies and contingency plans and how to always expect the worst and wake up every morning despite it all.

Maybe one could chalk it down to self-preservation instincts, given that Piper’s death would mean he’d cease to exist as well.

But he’d always cared for her life far more than his own. The demons should’ve taken his life instead of hers the day he’d turned 14.

(Balloons still gave him panic attacks.)

“I’ll get back to you soon,” he said to the demon and orbed straight to the manor.

He arrived right next to Piper, who stood next to Wyatt’s crib and watched her son sleep. Her eyes were wide with surprise as she looked at him, her face unusually pale.

“That was fast,” she said, only for her face to fall just seconds later. She’d expected Leo and not him, he realized quickly. But there was something else other than disappointment in her expression, though he couldn't put a name to it.

“What’s wrong?” Chris asked immediately. He couldn’t detect any demons or other harms nearby.

“Nobody’s in danger,” Piper reassured him and he relaxed a bit. “I just called your name by accident.”

Of course she had.

Under Piper’s wide, red t-shirt he could make out the swell of a baby bump. It was surreal, the knowledge of his existence as some unborn foetus. If he hadn’t been in dire need of therapy before, he would be after he was done here.

Chris was almost scared to stand so close to her, in fear of creating a paradox. (He was always scared of being close to Piper, for various other reasons.)

“Seems like congratulations are in order,” he said and vaguely gestured at her belly.

Piper looked down and smoothed over her abdomen. “Thanks. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You’re a wanted man.” It sounded only slightly judgemental.

Chris nodded. “Did you need anything?”

“I wanted to ask you something.” She looked almost a little ashamed, which was so unlike Piper he was frankly terrified of what she would request.

His heartbeat sped up in anticipation. He had never been one for surprises. The fear of being discovered any second was very real, it was waiting in every interaction, every word he said.

“Could you possibly watch Wyatt for half an hour? I need to go get ice cream and don’t want to wake him.”

“What?”

“Paige and Phoebe are out on Pheeb’s High School Reunion. And I forgot to stock up on it when I went shopping today. I’ll be quick.”

“What the- Is this some kind of weird pregnancy craving thing?” he asked incredulously.

Piper folded her arms, which looked kinda awkward with the bump in the way. “So? Forget I asked.”

Chris reached out for her, touched her upper arm and pulled back immediately as if he’d burned himself.

“Wait. I can get it for you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No big deal,” he said quickly. “What flavour?”

He thought he knew the answer; Ben and Jerry’s had always been a big deal for them.

“Chocolate Fudge Brownie and Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.”

Bingo.

“I’ll be right back.”

Chris orbed himself to the 7/11 at the other end of the city. He could’ve just conjured the ice cream on the spot, but the Elders in the past were hell-bent on the personal gain aspect of magic.

(After Wyatt had slaughtered most of them, they'd had bigger problems to worry about.)

Behind the cash register a young woman chewed on her bubble gum, her head bent over some books. The store was virtually empty, just a few other customers doing some late night errands runs. Most didn’t pay him any attention and those who did steered clear of him.

Dirty clothes reeking of fire and demon remains had their perks every now and then.

Chris grabbed Piper’s flavours and a pint of Pistachio Pistachio for himself. He could use some ice cream tonight, it had been ages.

His own personal favourite - Marshmallow Moon Cloud – wouldn’t be invented for another seven years so he had to make do with alternatives.

He was back at the house in record time. Piper wasn’t waiting for him at Wyatt’s bedside, but Chris could hear her rummaging downstairs. With one glance at his sleeping brother he made his way to the kitchen.

Piper was lining up different sauces on the dinner table, chocolate and caramel and strawberry. It was really sweet, figuratively.

He handed over the ice cream. “Thank you,” she answered. Given the way she looked at it, it could’ve been a treasure chest filled with gold and diamonds.

She pointed at the third one. “Yours?”

He nodded.

Piper nudged him with the end of her spoon. “Why don’t you stay and keep me company?”

“Are you playing for time so Leo and the Elders have time to enact some nefarious plans concerning me?” Chris deflected.

Leo and the Elders, the worst boyband in the history of magic, if you asked him.

Piper huffed a laugh. “Not everything is about you. And not everybody has cruel intentions.”  
  
Chris didn’t argue with her, but he definitely disagreed. Speaking from experience after all. Taking stuff personally was his greatest power, a second nature.

Piper sat down on one chair, looking at him expectantly. He resigned. He went to the drawer, grabbed a spoon and took a seat as well.

They both dug into their respective pints of ice cream and let silence envelope them. A sweet, sugary taste filled his mouth. It was ages since he’d last had pistachio ice cream.

In his memory it had tasted better, but Chris’s mostly chosen it for the whole pistachios. He was fond of the weird green nuts. Technically they weren't nuts, but whenever he had mentioned the little fact, Bianca had swatted his upper arm hard.

The thought of her left him with a stinging pain in his heart.

“Why are you dressed like a scarecrow?” Piper asked.

Chris looked down at his clothes and considered his outfit choices. He still wore loose sweat pants and the ugliest poncho known to humankind. “Because it was available. Stole it from a demon to blend in.”

She scrunched her nose up. “Gross.”

“Convenient.”

Piper hummed noncommittally, but let it go.

Something was up, Chris could feel it in the air. Maybe he was behaving just as neurotic as they always painted him to be, but they wouldn't be sitting in the kitchen and eat ice cream together if it wasn’t part of some master plan of hers.

“Do you have any siblings?” Piper asked him after another stretch of silence.

Chris swallowed down his discomfort. His gut feeling rarely failed him and right now it was telling him to run. “Is this a trap?”

“Not everything is a trap, Chris,” Piper said carefully. “Or a test.”

“So, is this?”

She bit her lip. “Maybe, partly. Your loyalties aren’t always clear. ”

“I can’t tell…”

“You can’t tell us anything about the future. Been there, done that.” Piper waved her hand between their faces. “Still doesn’t mean we don’t want to get to know our own Whitelighter. Because trust is built on honesty.”

“The hormones are making you mellow,” was all he had to say.

“Maybe. But the point still stands.”

Chris ate a spoonful of his ice cream to stall for just another moment. “I did,” he answered at last. "Have a sibling."

“Did you and Bianca ever talk about the future?” Piper went on, like she wanted to get to know him. The direction of her questions was clear and just a little intrusive.

“We really weren’t in a position to think about a future.”

“But you still wanted to marry her.”

He chewed on his spoon for an endless moment before he settled on an answer. Nobody had ever expected some sort of explanation from him, because there was nobody to weigh in on their decision.

There simply hadn't been any of his family left alive to care.

“I wanted something tangible, something she could remember me by while I was gone." He tapped the end of the spoon against the table. "I would have made a great husband,” Chris said wistfully.

He’d never expressed it before, not like this. His recent life had been marked by blood and death. But with Bianca he’d felt a glimmer of hope, a light at the end of the tunnel.

He'd wanted to die for her, but he'd wanted to live for her - with her - more.

As he looked up he saw Piper gazing at him. Her mouth was opened in surprise or disbelief, Chris couldn't tell. "Oh."

Chris laughed it off and gave Piper one of his few genuine smiles. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to warm up to me now.”

Piper narrowed her eyes at him. "None of us can warm up to you, if you don't let us get close."

"Whoa," Chris said. "Don't blame this on me now."

Truthfully, Piper wasn't wrong. He didn't have an easy personality in the best of times. And this, here, now, definitely wasn't the best of times. His trust issues prevented him from getting close to anybody, even his own family.

People could tire of him real quick.

But neither of the three sisters nor Leo had wanted to trust him to begin with. He'd been met with nothing but scrutiny and rejection. Chris could't have done cartwheels for a week straight and it may not have changed anything.

“What you said about Wyatt, you were lying,” Piper said out of the blue.

“I know it’s hard to believe he’ll turn evil. But I’ll find a way to prevent it, I promise.”

She shook her head. Her hair was falling in her eyes and she pushed the strands back behind her ear. “Not what I meant.”

Chris waited for her to go on.

“I have had a lot of time to think lately. Do you know what I sometimes think when I look at you?”

“When will somebody finally come from the future and pick that boy up?” he joked, but Piper didn’t laugh. Chris braced himself for the worst.

“How somebody managed to reincarnate Prue.”

A bucket full of cold water couldn’t have woken him up faster than Piper’s train of thoughts. He waited with batted breath for her to say something more, but she only stared at him calmly.

Piper didn't say anything, simply continued to spoon her ice cream while she waited for him to respond. A near serene aura surrounded her, it was unnerving.

He didn’t know what the best course of action was. He wasn’t sure if Piper certainly knew who he was or if she was just voicing a theory out loud to test his reaction.

“I thought this wasn’t a test?”

“It’s not. But I was my own great-grandmother in a former life, I’m not ruling anything out at this point.”

He shuddered a little. “I definitely wasn’t.”

“Chris.”

She’d always used the same voice when she’d wanted to coax answers out of him. He wasn’t very talkative in general, but his Mum always managed to make him fess up.

They’d share dessert then too, chocolate fudge cake or strawberry cupcakes with cream cheese toppings. Chris knew when sweets were waiting for him it was time for some mother-son time, just him and Piper.

He didn’t want to lie anymore. Not to Piper. Not to his mum. Heartbreak and yearning and grief were just as much a part of the Halliwell legacy as the Book of Shadows. An inheritance passed down from generations and generations, leading up to him, just waiting for it to be paid forward to his own children one day should he ever have any.

With one swift movement of his eyes he pushed his own bucket of ice cream closer to Piper. It was the one thing he knew how to prove himself the best.

“I’m not Prue, and I don’t think I ever was. But she’d probably tell you to relax.” He felt his eyes watering, but bit back as good as possible.

Chris didn’t remember his first display of power, not consciously. But later, in the blurred memories of his early childhood he remembered Piper intently watching him as he trained them and he remembered how she cried through a proud smile at times.

He remembered the sadness in her eyes, making a home next to the bright love inside them. He hadn’t understood it then. Like many other things in his life it had taken him years to uncover the darker secrets of his family, how much the grief of those who were lost still influenced the most mundane things. An undercurrent, constantly flowing around them, never truly gone.

"What gave it away?" he asked, his curiosity gaining the upper hand.

Piper raised an eyebrow at him. The undeniable hint of a smile bloomed on her face. "Everything you mentioned, all the small details you gave away, consciously or not; when I found out I was pregnant it made sense, somehow. That you're Wyatt's little brother."

Chris nodded. How much he hated it, to be called Wyatt's little brother, from anyone and everyone who couldn't been bothered to learn his name. As if it didn't matter, because he was nothing but an annex to the Twice Blessed Child.

"You could be having a girl, you know," he said belatedly.

"Am I?"

"Just saying."

The wind was howling outside, blowing through the cracks of the old manor. The house breathed in the midst of the storm, while they didn't dare to move.

It couldn't be like this, though.

Piper's definite knowledge of his true heritage, as relieving as it was, was a risk he couldn't take. A plan formed in his mind, undercooked and a tad preposterous. It wouldn't work forever, given that she'd basically figured it all out before he'd returned from his semi-voluntary demon-killing-vacation, but it would buy him some time.

He’d graciously take advantage of anything The Elders had provided him with when he’d succeeded Leo’s position.

Chris always kept some at hand, in case humans got in his way. It was ancient, somewhat inefficient, and annoying on top of it, but the Memory Spell written in the Book was a convoluted mess.

In the end their kind of magic wasn’t much different from pulling a white rabbit out of a hat. Witches too had their tools and skills, except more advanced and you know, actually real.

With his right hand he felt for the small bag of Memory Dust he kept in the inside pocket of his ugly Poncho. In one swift motion he grabbed a small amount and threw it right into Piper’s face.

He trusted Memory Dust to get the job done.

She coughed, waving the dust away. “Chris.”

“I’m sorry, Piper. But you can’t know yet. Maybe never, if I have my way.”

She got up from her chair in one swift movement, something he hadn't expected given her state of pregnancy. Fury danced in her eyes like fire. For a moment it reminded him of Wyatt; it was basically his only feature he had inherited from their mother instead of Leo.

“It’s not up to you to decide this.”

“Actually it is.”

“Memory Dust only works once you went to sleep,” Piper said, like a challenge, like a warning shot. "And it won't make me forget everything."

Chris cocked his head to the side. “It'll be enough. And I could cook up a sleeping potion in a matter of minutes if I wanted to. Everything’s right here.” He pointed at the neatly arranged racks of herbs and other ingredients. “But I know it won’t be necessary.”

"As if you could make me drink it," Piper hissed.

"Sleeping Spell then," he shrugged, but she looked even less impressed.

A yawn already escaped Piper’s mouth, before she could clamp a head over it. Sadness washed over him. He didn’t consider himself the melancholy type of person. Dwelling on memories of those that were lost never lead anywhere.

He soldiered on and on and on.

The war had done this to him. Wyatt had done this to him.

But the useless engagement ring he still kept and his lengthy conversations with Prue and how much he yearned for even a second of Piper’s touch, it all spoke a different language.

“You can’t hide forever,” Piper said with so much conviction he almost believed it too.

“We’ll see.”

Soft cries replaced the low constant static from the baby monitor. Piper yawned once more.

Time for him to go.

“You should go look after your baby,” Chris said. He stared at the floor, shuffling his dirty shoes and leaving dust prints in his wake. Tomorrow Piper would wake up and see the mess and hopefully wouldn't remember a single thing.

It was a temporary solution, if nothing else, a band-aid for a gushing gunshot wound. Piper would come to the same conclusion again.

"Look after your brother, you mean."

Chris shrugged.

She took a step forward and tipped his chin upwards. “We’ll arrive at this point again, sooner or later.”

“We’ll see,” he reiterated. It all depended on his next moves, though he had no idea which steps to take.

He forwent the urge to pull her into a hug and to just stay, because it was awkward and she wasn’t his mother, not quite, and it would be worse to let her go afterwards.

But Chris bent down slightly and put a soft kiss on her cheek bone, almost like a good son. Barely audibly he whispered, “Prue misses you so much, too.”

Maybe it was cruel to tell and let her forget again, but he figured it would be more callous to not say it all.

Chris orbed away without another word, without another look, but he stayed close by.

(When Piper finally succumbed to the tangles of sleep on the couch next to Wyatt’s empty bed - the toddler nestled to her chest and one hand resting on her growing belly - he removed all evidences of his visit and the truth it had unearthed.

The many notes with ‘Chris is my son’ written on them weighed heavy in his palms as he took them away.)

  
-

  
Somehow his sense of equilibrium was out of order. He almost ran into a group of teenagers, all of whom eyed him suspiciously. Chris didn't dislike this place per se. He just wasn't a people person; he hated crowds and the lively chatter that came with them.

And there were lots of loud people at Magic School.

He looked over his shoulder multiple times, in fear somebody had followed him. The school was protected by a shit-ton of spells and other protection means, but something could always happen. Security measures could always fail.

One endless hallway lead to another endless hallway and he realized just how long he hadn't been here anymore. In fact, the School was one of the first things Wyatt had destroyed. The knowledge lost in the attack that destroyed thousands of irreplaceable books, scrolls and relics could not be compensated for.

This one small but vital fact was one of the main reasons the Resistance had allowed him and Bianca to follow through with their own plan, even though they hadn't disclosed it to any members in much detail. Even the bitterest of soldiers - those who had suffered the most at Wyatt's hand - had known that Wyatt's death would never restore what was lost - infrastructure and knowledge and lives.

"Long time no see, buddy," a familiar voice said behind him. Chris turned around only to find Paige standing in the hallway.

"Your hair is dark," he exclaimed. Somehow the new development of Paige's hair colour caught him by surprise.

"It's called dye. Again, what are you doing here?"

Fantastic question.

Chris desperately needed a rare book and he was 90% sure there was a copy of it in the Library he wanted to borrow just for a minute. Problem was, his vision was blurring and the constant whistling in his ears was driving him insane. His pulse was racing, his hands were sweating. He couldn't sleep.

(He was on the verge of a panic attack. He was standing at the edge of the cliff and he'd fall in a matter of seconds. He knew and he had no time left to care.)

Chris slouched his shoulders, unable to keep up his act any longer. He was tired, so tired. "I don't know," he said instead of all the words that failed him.

Paige sized him up from head to toe. Then she grabbed him by his elbow and pulled him down the corridors and into an empty room unceremoniously. She shoved him onto one of the student desks and Chris let it happen.

He wouldn't be able to fight her even if he wanted to.

The air in Magic School always smelled of the dust of old books and smoke, because some pupil had blown up something more or less accidentally. And it was always cold, like they couldn't afford to pay the heating bill.

(It smelled like ashes, like fire burning skin, Wyatt torturing innocents with his pyrokinesis.)

"You look like you're about to drop dead any second," Paige admonished him. "Are you doing drugs?"

Chris squinted at her. "What?"

Paige threw her arms up wide, as if she wanted to encompass the whole universe, all of his neurotics. "The bullied, emotional secluded boy from the 'Don't Do Drugs' campaign videos they show in high schools? It could be you."

"Not doing drugs."

Not at the moment. He'd tried some stuff before though.

Paige leaned back against the teacher's desk. Her eyes bore into him relentlessly; she puckered her mouth. "You still look like you need help, Chris. Or a hug. Or, I don't know, a good home-cooked meal."

The mere suggestion of food made bile rise in his throat. "What gives?"

"I was a social worker once," she said, "before all of this." Paige looked up at the ceiling and let out a deep sigh.

Chris gave her a curt nod. He knew, though not because anybody had ever mentioned it. The Halliwell museum had physical copy of her degree on display.

"Which demon got you fired?"

"None. I quit."

That took him off guard. "Why?"

Paige crossed her arms, oddly defensive. "The job got in the way of being a witch."

"Or the other way around," Chris remarked. The Elders didn't take distraction to what they considered a holy duty well.

"Or that, yes. But there was another reason." She fixated her gaze on him until she had his full attention. "I wanted to be just as good as Prue."

Chris knew one or two things about raising to the occasion and failing, when the footsteps you were supposed to step in to were larger than life.

"You are. Not a great witch like Prue was, but the great witch only Paige Matthews could be," he said.

"You're not so bad at pep talks," Paige said after a pause. Chris merely shrugged.

"We know who you are, Chris," she told him then. Paige stated it calmly, like telling him the sky is blue. Just a matter of fact. 

"No, you don't."

"Quit playing games."

"Did the Memory Dust malfunction?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

Paige pursed her lips. With her fingers she drummed an erratic beat on the top of the desk behind her. "Piper had a hunch. Phoebe had a vision."

"It's Phoebe's job to have visions."

Seconds went by before she spoke again, "She saw Wyatt killing Bianca. Your brother Wyatt."

It shouldn't concern him. He'd watched her die already. There was nothing to be done about it. But Chris felt himself reach for the engagement ring regardless, wrapping his palm around it.

The last proof of his relationship to her.

Till death do us part.

They'd always known there'd be sacrifices to be made. Maybe their whole plan had been doomed from the start, maybe it had been born from a special kind of naivety and hopelessness.

He had nothing but the future to look forward to, for better or for worse. But Chris would love her until his dying breath and he prayed to gods he didn't believe in that they'd meet again in a kinder world.

"Chris?" Paige's voice brought him back to the present.

"What do you want from me?"

"Come home."

_I don't have a home_, he wanted to say. His home had been gone the day his mother's heart had stopped beating. 

Despite his better knowledge, Chris found himself agreeing with her. Paige looked at him with pity, like he was a orphaned puppy and he wanted her stop. Still, he followed her through the maze of hallways, back towards the noise echoing from the marble floors. They encountered more and more people, until arriving in a spacious room. The walls were lined with shelf after shelf filled with books. 

On a couch in the back to his right, Piper sat, her mouth stopping mid-sentence. Leo and Phoebe, the ones she'd been talking to turned around, and the three simply stared at him. Paige put a comforting hand right between his shoulder blades. 

"Just breathe, they won't hurt you."

Chris didn't know if he dared to believe her. He'd been let down too often to have no doubts about it. 

But Chris could try, could allow himself to show his entire being, allowed himself to be seen. 

  
-

  
He should've known it was Gideon, he should've suspected him sooner. Nobody who acted so high and mighty was truly good. It supported Chris' theory of moral ambiguity. Nobody was only ever good or evil.

And now he sat here, in the same hospital room occupied by his own infant self sleeping soundly in Piper's arms. Talk about awkward situations.

But they'd won.

It was over.

Chris had expected more. Fanfares maybe, a heavenly choir of angelic voices descending from the sky. He'd expected to feel victorious.

All he felt now was crushing emptiness, fatigue, uselessness.

For so long all of his existence had been built around saving Wyatt; now that it was over Chris had no way of figuring out who he was without a specific goal to achieve. But that was just part of the problem.

He was still here, in the past.

Alive.

Even if he went back to the future, it wouldn't be the timeline he came from. Chris had no way of knowing what would happen to him. It was fucked up. He should've let Gideon murder him. It would have prevented the paradox he found himself in now.

"You were protecting Wyatt from Gideon, I've heard," Piper said quietly. She still looked tired, which was fair given the day she'd had. The colour to her cheeks returned slowly though, inversely proportional to Chris' worrying about her condition.

Chris looked up, nodded. "Of course."

They'd still briefly lost Wyatt, but eventually saved him from the villain's clutches. Chris'd heard Leo's agonising scream as Gideon's knife had met his body. It still messed with him to know that his father would care about his death. Maybe they did have a chance here.

"How did you survive?" she asked. "Leo said he saw Gideon stab you with a dagger. And then you were gone."

"Wasn't my real body," Chris answered with a small smile. "Astral Projection."

Piper raised an eyebrow. "You can do that?"

"Not well, not yet. But I had a good teacher."

She nodded then, understanding who exactly he was referring to. Maybe they'd be able to talk to each in time. Maybe they'd find some closure. The Halliwells were in desperate need of one, with all the ghosts and demons haunting them.

Baby Chris mewled, raising his tiny fists, and then falling back into a slumber.

"What now?" Chris asked with his gaze still glued to his younger self. What am I supposed to do now?

"I have no idea. But we will find a way to solve this. We always do. You just have to trust," Piper said with the confidence only a mother could muster.

And maybe, completely unlike him, Chris allowed himself to fall and trust.

  
-

Consider this: Maybe surviving was only just the start. 

**Author's Note:**

> okay. this fic has been in the making for almost 2 years. whenever i catch the s6 reruns i'd add something. and it's finally here. not the fic i wanted to write originally, but what i ended up with. i'm proud of it regardless. (in the beginning this story was supposed to be about chris finding his way back home. well, maybe there'll be a sequel in five years or so.)
> 
> if you want to find me and talk about a show that ended over a decade ago, my name's mightyjemma on tumblr.


End file.
